


Secret Meetings

by vanillalime



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Gen, Italian Mafia, Revenge, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 18:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14878637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillalime/pseuds/vanillalime
Summary: With the help of a friend, Toby's mother delivers the payment to Pancamo's hitman hired to kill Hank Schillinger.





	Secret Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> Both Swanny (Harrison Beecher's private investigator) and Gaetano Cincetta (Pancamo's hitman) are named-but-never-seen, canon characters from Oz. This story takes place in the same universe as the Angus Beecher story I wrote for the most recent Oz Magi exchange ([Putting the Pieces Together](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13411359)), but it can also stand on its own. Thanks to drsquidlove for the original prompt that inspired the stories.

Victoria squinted into the distance, searching, until suddenly she saw it. Pointing with her finger, she said, "There it is, on the left."  
  
Swanny gradually slowed down, then turned the Mercedes into the Park-n-Ride. The lot was deserted, as one would expect on a rainy Saturday afternoon. He drove the car around so that it faced the entrance, then put it in park, leaving the engine running. They were early.  
  
Seconds later, the wipers made a hideous screeching sound against the windshield, and Victoria flinched at the noise. Swanny immediately adjusted their frequency.  
  
Clutched tightly in Victoria’s hand was a brown paper envelope that contained a stack of crisp $100 bills. It was a short stack—twenty bills, to be exact. Victoria had counted them at least a dozen times.  
  
She opened the envelope once again to check its contents, as though the money might’ve evaporated when she wasn’t paying attention.  
  
"It just seems like there should be more," she mumbled.  
  
Swanny turned toward her. "Mmm?"  
  
Victoria closed the fastener and looked back up. "I feel like it’s not enough. We should be paying them more."  
  
Two thousand dollars for a man’s life. A month ago, she would’ve gladly paid a hundred times—no, a thousand times—that amount to get Gary back, safe and unharmed.  
  
Then again, Gary’s life had been worth a whole lot more than Hank Schillinger’s.  
  
"It’s what they asked for. It’s not like Toby haggled with them over the price."  
  
"I know. You’re right."  
  
They were both quiet. Victoria took survey of the parking lot, but found nothing of interest.  
  
"We’re getting a remarkable amount of rain," Swanny finally said.  
  
Victoria smiled, grateful for his comforting, if unoriginal, observation. Impulsively, she told him, "Well, you know the saying—April showers bring May flowers."  
  
Victoria watched Swanny nod his head, then she playfully nudged him with an elbow. "And you know what May flowers bring, don’t you?"  
  
He looked over at her with a wrinkled brow. "No, what?"  
  
"Pilgrims."  
  
Swanny stared at her blankly until the joke connected. Then he chuckled and shook his head. "That was really bad."  
  
"No, it wasn’t," Victoria retorted with a mock pout. "That’s a great joke. I told that joke to Holly earlier this week, and she actually laughed out loud. It was the first time she’s done that since we got her back."  
  
Victoria paused. "That was a good day," she declared softly. "There haven’t been many of those lately."  
  
“It’ll take time, Victoria.”  
  
Neither of them said anything for a while, until Victoria whispered, “Sometimes I think this is all a nightmare.” She turned away and looked out the passenger window. “Sometimes I think, maybe, if I just wait long enough, I’ll wake up and get out of it.”  
  
She looked back at Swanny, who was sitting there watching her, listening patiently. “I know that’s silly,” she added, lest he think she was losing her mind.  
  
But Swanny replied, “No, that’s not silly at all.” With a sad smile, he suggested, “I know it’s hard, but try to focus on the good times, before the nightmare.”  
  
Victoria responded with a short huff. "I’m not sure I can remember back to the good times. I’m not even sure when the nightmare began."  
  
Swanny’s attention was momentarily diverted by a car approaching the parking lot. He watched the car closely as it slowly continued past the entrance, then he turned back toward her.  
  
"I remember," he said gently, "when Toby and Genevieve first announced that they were expecting. It was New Year’s Eve, and you were having a party. Toby got up in front of everyone and made a little speech. You were so happy, you cried." Swanny paused to clear his throat. "Even Harrison choked up. I’d never seen that before. It was a beautiful moment."  
  
Victoria stared at him, her eyes surprisingly dry. "Yes, well, I remember that night, too," she said shortly. "I remember what happened after the party, after you and all the guests had left."  
  
She sighed before continuing. "Toby had had a little too much to drink." She hesitated, then corrected herself, "No, Toby was _drunk._ Genevieve didn’t want him to drive home, but he insisted. They got into a big fight. Harrison and I didn’t know what to do, so we didn’t do anything. We thought it best if they worked it out between themselves. We didn’t want to interfere in their personal problems."  
  
Victoria shook her head. "That was such a mistake. We should have taken Gen’s side. We should have stood up for her and told Toby that she was right. We should have made sure he didn’t drive that night, that he knew it was wrong."  
  
She paused for a moment. "Maybe that’s when the nightmare started. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently if we had just said something, anything, all those years ago."  
  
"Don’t think like that," Swanny quickly told her. "You’ll drive yourself crazy."  
  
Victoria couldn’t help but roll her eyes. "That’s easier said than done," she countered.  
  
"You think I don’t know how you feel?" Swanny said reproachfully. "Do you think I haven’t wondered a hundred times how things would be different if I’d never found Hank Schillinger? If I’d never pulled him out from under his rock?"  
  
Victoria looked him in the eye and saw a pain that mirrored her own. "Is that why you’re here with me right now, helping me do this?" she quietly asked.  
  
Swanny turned away, then nodded his head toward the parking lot’s entrance. "Someone’s here."  
  
A big black car drove across the lot and pulled up next to them, facing the opposite direction. Victoria’s door was a few feet away from its passenger side. A large, solitary man looked over at her from the driver’s seat.  
  
Victoria tightened her grip on the brown paper envelope.  
  
Swanny’s strong voice said into her ear, "I’ll be right here the whole time."  
  
She opened her door and stepped out into the rain. As she walked toward the other car, the man inside lowered the passenger window and leaned across the front seat.  
  
"You lookin’ for someone?" he called out with a thick Italian accent.  
  
"Mr. Cincetta?"  
  
The man closed the window and motioned for her to come sit in his car. Victoria glanced back at Swanny, who gave her an encouraging nod of his head.  
  
Smiling nervously, she opened the car door and slipped inside. The man behind the wheel was the living, breathing stereotype of a mob hitman. He may as well have just stepped off the set of _The Godfather._ Victoria fleetingly wondered if there was a box of cannoli sitting on the backseat.  
  
She swallowed hard. "I’m Victoria Beecher."  
  
He held out his hand. "Gaetano Cincetta, at your service." They shook.  
  
"You gots somethin’ for me?" he prompted.  
  
Victoria looked down at the envelope in her hand, suddenly remembering what she was supposed to do with it. She quickly handed it over.  
  
Cincetta opened it up and looked inside. He pulled out the stack of bills and flipped through it. Apparently satisfied, he returned the money to the envelope and tossed it over his shoulder into the back of the car.  
  
"You gots any pictures of the guy?"  
  
His question caught Victoria off guard. Was she supposed to have included photographs with the money?  
  
"No, no, I don’t have any," she stammered. "Is that a problem? He was on the news. He had a mugshot."  
  
"Nah, that’s okay," Cincetta said with a wave of his hand. "Just thought I’d ask. I’ll figure it out."  
  
_Figure it out?_ worried Victoria. _Is this guy a professional or not?_  
  
"So, you want it quick’n clean?" Cincetta asked. He looked sideways at her and actually began cracking his knuckles. "Or you want him to suffer?"  
  
Victoria blinked. She hadn’t known that she was going to be faced with options. But she knew her answer to his question immediately. She wanted Hank Schillinger to suffer. She wanted him to die a slow, agonizing death. But a thought occurred to her, and she panicked slightly.  
  
"Would it… the suffering… would that cost extra? I didn’t bring any more money."  
  
Cincetta smiled at her. "Nah, it’s complurmenturary." With a short laugh, he added, "Like gettin’ ketchup with your French fries."  
  
Victoria returned his smile, surprised at how easy it was. "Well, then, if the opportunity presents itself… " Her voice trailed away.  
  
"He kilt a little boy, didn’t he?"  
  
Victoria’s smile disappeared. She tilted her chin up. "Yes. My grandson."  
  
Their eyes met, and Cincetta nodded his head. "I’ll see that he receives the appropriate punishment."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Victoria looked off to her right and saw Swanny watching them. She turned back to Cincetta. "Is there anything else?" she asked.  
  
"Nope, that should do it. If the guy’s still in town, it’ll go down pretty fast. I’ll get word to my boss when it’s done."  
  
Victoria nodded her head. "That sounds good. Thank you once again for your assistance in this matter, Mr. Cincetta."  
  
He gave her a little salute with the tips of his fingers. "Any time, ma’am. ’Twas a pleasure doin’ business."  
  
Victoria exited the car and began walking toward her own. By the time she slid back into her seat, Cincetta was already pulling out onto the road. She drew a sigh of relief.  
  
Swanny eyed her closely. "How’d it go?"  
  
"It went fine," Victoria answered. She replayed the conversation in her head and smiled to herself. "Better than fine, as a matter of fact."  
  
At least she possessed enough self-awareness to be startled by the lack of guilt she felt. Perhaps the guilt would come later. It usually did.  
  
But not always.  
  
Victoria shook her head, then looked over at Swanny. "I don’t think I would have been able to do this by myself. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help, and your discretion." She reached over and placed a hand on his arm. "As you know, bringing Harrison into the loop wasn’t really an option."  
  
Swanny looked down at her hand, then slowly pulled his arm away. "Harrison is a good man," he said roughly.  
  
"Yes, he is," Victoria agreed. She sighed before adding, "But, sometimes, he’s _too_ good."  
  
Swanny nodded and absentmindedly tapped the steering wheel with his fingers. Then he coughed into his fist, twice.  
  
"I saw a nice-looking restaurant with a bar when we first got off the highway," he told her. "Now that this is all over and done with, we could stop there for a drink, if you feel like you need one."  
  
"I wouldn’t say I need a drink," Victoria slowly replied. "But, maybe, I’d like one anyway."  
  
A smile slipped through Swanny’s mask. He put the Mercedes in gear and drove toward the Park-n-Ride’s exit.


End file.
